Some Canon Examples;;
here are three examples of canon auditions, first one for spot, second for jack kelly, and third for racetrack! please note that the spot audition is from our last plot!
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Spot's Audition:
Spot frowned. That’s all he could do these days. Frown. He was in a chair in the the dark rooms of the Brooklyn lodging, and there was nothing that could appease his anger. The newsies were disappearing. First Jax, who was just a newsie, but he was Spot’s newsie. And Doll. Dang it Doll. She was the main center of information in the town and Ghost had her. Spot threw his cane across the room, and it crashed againist something, Spot didn’t care what. How was he supposed to know what danged Harlem knew. Spot then wished that he hadn’t thrown his cane across the room, cause he know had to hop over to get it. His eyes were blank and focused, and he was determined to get over by his-self.
He walked back and paced across the dark room, stopping in front of the window to stare at his city. Newsies lined the streets. And they were scared out of their right mind. Well, not the Brooklyn's. No Brooklyn newsie worth their pape’s would be afraid of something like a little Harlem boy. He hated them Harlem’s, taking his newsies all over the place. “Where me ciggi! Ise want me ciggi.” He spit on the floor and nodded at the person who handed him the cigarette. “Ya goin’ gimmie a light?” The boy nodded and placed a flame on the cigarette. He took a long drag and exhaled, blowing smoke rings around the room and smiled. “That’s what Ise call talent.” He kicked back in his throne and thought deep and hard.
They needed to hit Harlem as hard as they hit Brooklyn. He needed to take Harlem kids. He ran his hair through his hair, cause he knew he was looking spiffy, and took another long drag out of the cigarette. He hated the taste of cigarettes, but loved smoking, and he fiddled with his knife, cleaning the dirt from his nails and smiling. He placed the knife back in his belt and frowned more, he shoulda stuck the knife in the nearest Harlem newsie, but that wouldn’t fix nothing... It would make him feel better though. He decided he had to stick a knife in something, and so he took his cigarette and took another drag, then threw the knife into the wall. He smiled, his aim was improving.
He then took out his slingshot and shot at the wall in a nonchalant way. It was his favorite past time, and he loved that slingshot. Almost enough to make him forget about the war. Almost.
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Jack's Audition:
The sky was dimming; the city sounds were dying down, and smoke was rising from the alleyways down below. Jack Kelly sat, there on on the strong iron rusting fire escape. He didn't notice the chill of autumn, bringing Winter's cold warning. No, the leader had other things on his mind that day. All his newsies were cooped up inside, resting after their long day of selling. None of them dared to bother Jack, they were giving him his space.
He was tired, mentally and physically, hearing things from all over the city. He couldn't believe it. Spot had lost two and that wasn't even the worst part. Ghost had Doll, Spot's second and chief bird. It seemed Harlem knew just the spots to hit. Jack was the only one yet who had agreed to be on Spot's side. If Harlem was done with Brooklyn, Manhattan would be next...
Jack blew out a puff of smoke, before dropping his cigarette idly, watching the red embers fading to a small red glow. He always thought best over a cigarette. Oh yes, Brooklyn still had the fire alright, but even the strongest flame had to retire eventually. And just like that he stepped on the cigarette, watching its light go out.
Had he done the right thing? Joining Spot? Had he been careful with his decision, or had he just automatically agreed, just for the sake of keeping his friendship with Brooklyn. They had been there as backup during the strike, and even before and after, always there when needed. Jack wanted to be the same to Spot. But he had to think of the well being of his borough, his newsies. They weren't just money you could bet away and then win back when you had a stroke of luck. He had to protect them. But how could he stab Spot in the back now?
It seemed Jack was always involved in some type of war. Facing the big cats who thought they ran the city, who thought the working class was theirs to stomp over. Other leaders, who suddenly decided that a borough was theirs for the taking. He was in battle against his conscience, what he thought was right and wrong. And the center of turmoil in Francis Sullivan's life; his dreams and his reality. He could never slip away on a beautiful powerful moving black locomotive to Santa Fe, he could never leave his troubles. Because Jack's troubles would never go away, even if he tried to pretend they would in such a place as New Mexico. There would be wars there too.
He heard the window squeak open behind him and kept his back to it, until he heard a tiny voice break the air.
"Jack, are you awight?"
The city cowboy wiped the weary tiredness away, rubbing his eyes and turned, facing one of his youngest kids.
"Yeah, just gettin' a breath of fresh city air." Fat chance of that. The little boy looked relieved, though eyed the black cigarette intently, peering up at his leaders face. A cigarette meant something serious most of the time.
"...Jack? I was wondering...." the small child hesitated, rubbing his itchy nose with his arm, looking down at his shoes.
"Go on, what was ya wondering Price?"
"I was wonderin' if ya could read me that dime novel of yours, the one with the cowboy." and he pulled it out from behind his back.
Jack was silent for a moment. He could get angry at the kid for taking his things, or he could say he was tired and had too many things to worry about at the moment...
"Shoah, kid, I think that's somethin' I can manage..." The little boy beamed and ran over, his little boots pounding on the escape and plopped down eagerly, staring at the cover with marveling eyes as he handed the dime novel to Jack.
Jack flipped it open, treating the novel tenderly, he had had it for a long time and would have fallen apart long ago if he didn't treasure it so. He started to read, his voice quiet and steady, and Price's head was filled with the excitement and aventure, the idea of a wide open plain and a large bright sun, a land never settled before.
Time seemed to freeze as Jack read, until the last word had left his lips, fading into the city air. Price finally breathed, his face peaceful and content, before it puckered in wonderment, curiosity, as if he had a question that had never really been answered before.
"Jack? Do you really believe in such a place, where there's no troubles? Only adventure and wide open spaces?"
The young man had to admit he was surprised by the question and was silent for a long moment. He longed to fuel the boys' dreams, to say he was 100% sure. But he didn't have the heart to do that. Finally raising his tired brown eyes to Price's blue, he slowly shook his head.
"No, no I don't." the small newsies' face faltered, and he stood up, walking towards the fire escape. Jack watched him, and stood slowly, speaking just as Prince went to the window.
"But that doesn't mean you can't believe it..."
The boy's eyes widened, taking in that answer and he nodded. He turned to go again, but Jack's voice stopped him again, and he was dismayed to see tears in the older boy's eyes.
"Price, when you find that place, someday, will you tell me about it?"
The smallest newsie, wise beyond his years, nodded with a smile.
"I will Cowboy, I will."
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Racetrack's Audition:
"C'mon! Whadya, kiddin' me? Dis is ridic!" Racetrack Higgins shouted furiously, pinching a cigar tightly between his thumb and forefinger. He squeezed between a couple of stiffs, giving himself a better view of the race going on. He'd hitched a ride to Sheepshead that morning, having gotten a hot tip on a certain Thunderbolt. So he'd gone and wasted a whole four bits on the stupid horse and now it was dead last.
"Move it, Thunderbolt! I gots a lot ridin' on ya!" Race yelled above the shouts of the other betting men. He pounded a fist against the railing.
"Shut up, kid!" growled an older man, knocking him to the side.
Indignant, Racetrack stretched to his full height. "Who you callin' a kid, ya lousy--aw, great, dat's just great!" Racetrack exclaimed. "Da bulls! Just what I need!"
In Race's direction, three police officers were cutting through the crowd, their gazes fixed intently on the Newsie.
"Well it's been a real pleasure, folks," Race announced, tugging his cap down a little lower and tossing his cigar to the side. "We'll do it again some time. Real soon. I'll head out an' come back with a few new tricks, a'right?" He shook a few hands for good measure and then took off in the opposite direction of the bulls. He ran straight out of the Sheepshead Races and hopped onto the back of a wagon that looked like it was headed back for Manhattan.
"Eh, tomorrow. Tomorrow's anuddah day," Racetrack said, taking off his cap and wiping the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve
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Please notice how all of their auditions stay true to the character, and how they write mannerisms of that character. There spelling is wonderful, and they have correct punctuation and capitalization in all the right places. They dont butcher the character to their will, like making them to sweet or to mean or anything like that. They go off of what they know from the movie. I'm not saying that the lesser known newsies are gonna be exactly like their character in the movie, since not much is known about them, but if you really want a canon, study up! watch the movie, look at your character that your auditioning, read up on them at the many newsie fansites out there (I prefer the newsiesfreak website myself for information) and then try out! Remember, your administrator and staff love nice well written auditions!